By Abdool A. Aziz

COMMUTERS scurry past him all the time. Though he is on ‘bended’ knees and praying, they don’t seem to care. They are too busy and sometimes did not have a dime to spare. But this immigrant stopped, fielded a coin and threw it into the empty bowl. The beggar, almost blind asked, “How much?”
The donor replied, “Just a dollar.”
“Thank you brother, can you buy me a coffee?”
“Sure!”
The traveller brought him a cup of coffee and a doughnut. His bony hands trembled as he raised the paper cup to his parched lips.
“Here, let me help you,” said the benefactor. The delay caused the Good Samaritan to lose his train. He didn’t mind.
DAILY ALMS
He felt so badly for this poor beggar that he decided to bring him breakfast every day. If not coffee and doughnut, it was cooked food. And the white guy loved Guyanese cuisine especially salt fish and bake and metemgee.
He once joked, “Man, if I were strong I’d loved to marry one of your people. Your wife cooked so sweet.”
But the traveller had no wife. He didn’t even have any documents. But he had a heart of gold. Sometimes he would go early and sit and chat with Dan the beggar. He learned that this almost crippled beggar was a lumberjack and gold miner, but arthritis damaged his health. He lost his family and became a drifter eventually.
He admitted he was an inmate at a shelter, but had to leave because of the degrading treatment. He said he rather beg than lose his dignity. But no one seemed to care.
“All morning and no alms. Your own people go past. They don’t seem to care,” the man said.
“I agree, but you type of people care. Look at your kindness. You’re from Guyana?” the beggar asked.
“Yes”
“Guyanese are the friendliest and kindest people. Most third-world immigrants are. The whites here are too conservative. Too busy with the material world. Not much time for people. I was once so. The society carved you out this way. But thank God for people like you. I know they discriminate against you because you are coloured. I once did, but look now. You embrace me as your own. No one is superior in looks, money or power. It’s your character and charity is its foundation. Thank you, brother. God bless you.”
EMPTY SPOT
One morning, the Good Samaritan dashed out of the bus to bring food to Dan but an empty spot greeted him. He thought his beneficiary was late or in the washroom. He waited and waited. A female janitor came up to him in a sombre way.
“Looking for your friend?”
“Yes! Where is he?”
She slowly pointed up.
“You mean he is gone back to God?”
She shook her head sadly.
“He died on Saturday, slumped on his knee,” she said.
“Do you know what happened to his corpse?”
“The subway authorities buried him, but I have his bowl,” she said.
“Please, give it to me, please.”
She handed him that silver container. He kept it as a memento of his beloved friend Dan.

As he was in sorrow, he saw another beggar take Dan’s Place. He walked over, placed a coin in his hat and gave him the food. Dan was in Heaven, this newcomer is still a victim of the mean streets of a metropolis and there are more out there waiting to take his place. The philanthropist eventually returned to our ‘paradise’ where people count and are charitable. The big society with the awful spill of human lives. The rich get richer. The poor get poorer. God Bless Guyana.